


Harry Potter, the Mighty Nein, and the Chamber of Secrets

by WrenWrites



Series: Harry Potter and the Mighty Nein [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disabled Characters, Gen, Multi, Polynein (Critical Role), They/Them Pronouns for Mollymauk (Critical Role), Trans Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-26 05:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrenWrites/pseuds/WrenWrites
Summary: Some of the Mighty Nein, at the behest of the Raven Queen, act as a pint-sized protection detail for one Harry Potter. Or: a collection of curious transfer students arrive unannounced in the Summer before Harry's second year.





	1. Gentle Repose

**Author's Note:**

> This is really, mostly wish fulfillment but enjoy the ride?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You touch a corpse or other remains. For the duration, the target is protected from decay and can’t become undead.

Dawn breaks over fields dotted with pockets of brilliant flowers. Tall grass sways wavelike against a gentle breeze. From the bordering mountains and the forested foothills, a river cuts through the valley, narrowing as it runs beside a leaning brick cottage. Pale smoke coils lazily up from a roughshod chimney.  Fish move quicksilver against the rocks and skirt the edges of a groaning watermill. Caleb stretches, eyes following a slow-moving heard of elk picking their way carefully infield from the forests. His back is stiff after several watchful hours spent mostly still. As he stands in increments, he braces himself against the warming stone of the chimney. He grimaces as his knees tremble in protest. The breeze changes and blows smoke over his head. Stronger than the smell of ash and sulfur is the smell of freshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and frying eggs.

Caleb lingers there, breathing deeply, until the chimney is hot enough that it bites through the thin gloves and coat he’d thrown on for his watch. He leans away, trying to shake the sleep out of his still sluggish arms and legs. Filtering up, buffeted by the woodsmoke, someone is humming a jaunty but familiar tune. There are other voices too, soft in conversation. There is a scrape of chairs, the clatter of dishes and silverware against wood. Caleb shuts his eyes, just briefly. The front door to the cottage bangs open right then, jarring Caleb out of what might have been a doze on his feet. The muted conversation is noisier now, bright and overlapping. Above it all, Mollymauk calls up to him.

               “Caleb darling, are you awake up there?” Caleb looks out over the valley. Quiet fields, a still forest. The sun is rising over the mountains, bright and watery-orange. Birds of prey have begun to circle high against a backdrop of vibrant blue. The elk have come as far infield as they are likely too. Standing tall among them is a dark-furred buck Jester had affectionally named Big Bastard months ago when he had wondered too near to their cottage and gotten a foot caught in their fence. He hadn’t had antlers then, he does now. Large enough that Caleb can see them even from this far off. It is quiet and it is beautiful, and there is no danger. Caleb savors the thought, and then clambers down the rickety ladder Fjord had laid against the cottage wall. Molly is waiting for Caleb still, hip braced against the doorframe. Their lavender skin is catching the sun. Caleb takes a moment to steady himself on the ground, his knees wobble warningly. He takes a testing step, then another, and sags to the ground. Mollymauk catches him under the elbow with a laugh.

               “Whoops! I’ve got you dear. Still a bit stiff, hm?” Caleb smiles against Mollymauk’s chest.

               “Ah, _ja_ , sorry.” Molly presses a kiss to his forehead and sets him upright. Bowing a little they press another kiss to Caleb’s cheek.

               “No need to apologize, dear. Let’s get you inside and warm. Put some food in your belly, then you can take a nap if you need it.” Together they stumble inside, Molly keeping a firm arm around Caleb’s waist. Inside the cottage is still dim. They rarely bother with electricity, most of them have Darkvision. Sun has caught most of the windows, anyway, and there is a fire going. Combined they fill the front rooms of the cottage with a warm, glowing light. Jester is stood at the elevated, rounded stone of the fireplace. She has two large cast iron pans over the flames, loaded with bacon and eggs. Her tail is swaying behind her and finally Caleb places the tune she was humming and is now peppering with mumbled lyrics. It’s a sea shanty Fjord taught them ages ago, mostly about bedding women and weathering storms. Caleb remembers the words and laughs. Jester turns with a bright smile.

               “Good morning Cay-leb! Did you see anything during your watch?” Molly guides Caleb into a chair and joins Jester at the fireplace.

               “Elk, a few birds. A fox was fishing in the river before the sun came up but that is all. You know Jester, you had probably better not sing that song when we are at, ah, school.” Jester turns and rolls her eyes, still smiling.

               “I will sing it in _celestial_ Cay-leb, _obviously_. No one will know what I am saying.”

               “I don’t think it will translate well.” Yasha says. She has a couple loaves of still steaming bread in a basket in one hand and is pinching the rims of a few cups with the other.  Her pale face is not yet smudged with her customary warpaint. Caduceus trails in behind her with a kettle and the rest of the cups.

               “It might translate into Sylvan, Ms. Jester.” Jester sighs noisily, pouting.

               “That will have to do I _guess_.” The pout curls into a grin. Jester winks at Caleb and returns to breakfast.

               “What’ll have to do Jester?” Beau is shouldering open the door, Fjord and Nott just behind her. They’d left before dawn, long fishing poles and a cooler between them. Nott had waved up at Caleb, barely visible in the dark.

               “Oh _nothing_.” Jester winks rapidly at Beau, nearly blinking, and Beau shrugs while Fjord laughs easily beside her. They stow their fishing poles near the door and Fjord passes the cooler off to Nott who hauls it into the kitchen.

               “Catch anything good?” Molly calls after her, still helping Jester balance the two pans full of cooking food.

               “Caught a couple of walleyes and a smallmouth bass. There were a few hikers downriver who spotted us though, so we finished early.” Nott says, walking back in and clambering into the chair beside Caleb. “Good morning Caleb.” She can’t quite get her halfling arms around him, but she tries her level best.

               “Good morning, Nott. You saw hikers?” Caleb straightens out her shirt while Fjord picks languidly at a tusk, settling in across the table with his back to Jester. Beau slumps into a chair beside him, rubbing at her bad knee with a hiss.

               “We did. Three of them. We tried to say hello, or Beau and Nott did anyhow but I don’t think they spoke what we’re supposed to be speaking.”

               “We’re speaking French.” Caleb says, soft.

“They didn’t see you, did they?”  Caduceus asks, trailing back in from the kitchen, with a pot of honey and a jar of jam now.

               “Naw, they didn’t see me.” Fjord stands so Jester and Molly can maneuver the overfull pans onto the table, setting them down against thick rags they’d been passing off as potholders for a couple years now.

               “That would’ve been bad.” Jester says, soft.

               “Nobody saw ‘im, for sure.” Beau says, with a sharp smile. Fjord sighs.

               “Nobody saw me because you shoved my face under the water. Those hikers might’ve ignored us because they thought you were tryn’a murder me.” Beau flips Fjord off and Nott sticks her tongue out.

               “Better that than wondering why we were going fishing with Kermit the Frog.” Fjord flushes a sort of puce.

               “If this plane has that damned show, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.” He says, without heat. Molly and Beau high-five.

               “I hope they don’t wander too much closer.” Yasha says softly as she settles into her seat. Jester and Molly settle in too once they’ve gotten the food squared away.

               “The illusion will hold, if they do.” Caduceus says easily, pouring cups of tea that smell lemony and sweet.

               “She promised us five years. Hasn’t even been four yet.” Fjord adds with authority. There is a beat where no one can think of an appropriate response. Then Fjord starts doling out eggs and bacon while Yasha passes out slices of bread, and no one has to. Jester stacks her plate with three slices of bread and a single egg. She frowns across the table then hops up.

               “You know!” Jester eventually calls from the kitchen, head ducked into the pantry. “Maybe when we are done doing all these, you know, _chores_ for the Raven Queen we could come back here.”

               “What’d she say?” Nott mumbles to Caleb. Caleb hurriedly tries to swallow a mouthful of bread and jam.

               “Ah, she said-”

               “I said, the Raven Queen should let us come back here when we are done as a reward.” Jester says, bouncing back into the room with a jar of chocolate spread clutched triumphantly to her chest. “Sorry, I forgot I shouldn’t say things too far away, Nott.” She adds. Nott rubs at her one ear, the cartilage is jagged and torn from shrapnel.

               “It’s okay.” Briefly everyone returns to their meal. Yasha nearly tips Jester’s tea reaching for the salt. Caleb snaps Frumpkin into existence so he can nibble on some bacon under the table.

               “I wouldn’t mind that.” Mollymauk says, glancing around at all of them.

               “It would be nice, after everything.” Yasha agrees, voice soft. Caduceus chews thoughtfully on his bread loaded with butter and honey, nodding his head.

               “That would be…” Caleb trails off, an emotion he can’t quite place sticking in his throat. He shoves eggs and bacon unceremoniously into his mouth to keep it there. His hands shake a little harder than usual.

               “I mean, what would ‘done’ even look like for us though.” Fjord says, pointedly focused on the egg and bacon sandwich he is constructing. “You know? Like, how long until it’s been…enough?”

               “I know what I thought would be enough, that fucking nightmare-plane.” Beau says, bitterly. Caleb can’t help the full body flinch. “It was so fucking bad.” Beau’s tone is carefully neutral, her eyes on the window in the kitchen. Watching, maybe, for a glimpse of black feathers. The silence drags, no one has anything to say. What more was there to say? So fucking bad about summed it up. Caleb feels abruptly sick. Frumpkin climbs into his lap, licking at his chin. Mollymauk places their hand carefully on his knee.

               “Let’s talk about something else for a little while.” Beau winces.

               “Sorry man.” Caleb flashes what he hopes is a convincing smile, and deftly the conversation shifts to what the hikers had looked like. Caleb, with pointed prompting from Fjord, describes the fox from that morning. Jester pulls out her sketchbook, setting the corner heedlessly in a spilled blot of jam, and sketches first the hikers and then the fox and the river with a charcoal pencil. She’s nearly reached the end of this one.

               “Gonna need a new one soon, huh?” Fjord is watching over her shoulder. On the previous page is a detailed watercolor of the elk herd that frequents the valley.

               “I have extras.” Jester says, brightly, tracing the thin lines of a fox crouched by a riverbed. “But I do need new watercolors soon.”

               “We’re due a trip into town soon, anyway.” Molly says, breezily. The uneasy air is not quite lifted from the table. Jester is smiling, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. Caleb is leaning away from the table, looking a little green. Yasha is rubbing at her eye, the one with striated scarring all around the empty socket. Beau sighs, long and loud.

               “Sorry I brought everybody down. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

               “It’s important to talk about it.” Caduceus says, gentle. Beau smiles a little, then. Jester huffs.

               “Sometimes I wish I had drawn it.”

               “What, the hell-plane?” Nott asks.

               “Yeah. Maybe it would be easier.”

               “What would?” Yasha asks, voice steady.

               “I don’t know.”

               “You did draw something, just one thing.” Jester’s face twists in confusion. Caleb rubs the back of his neck uneasily. Then realization breaks across her face.

               “Oh! I did! I drew that…oh Caleb, you remember that?” Caleb shrugs.

               “I kept it, the drawing. After – after ah. I could not get rid of it.” Caleb can’t, _won’t_ meet Jester’s eyes. “You can have it back, if you like.”

               “Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles, but it is a tentative thing.

“It’s been nearly five years.” Fjord says, stretching away from the table. He starts to gather plates wordlessly. Mollymauk waves him off theirs, shoveling a couple more eggs on.

               “Has it really?” They murmur.

               “Think so. One in the plane after, four in this one.” 

               “Huh.” Molly frowns down at their plate, then shrugs. “Well, good riddance.” They all nod at that. The rest of the morning passes a little gentler, some of the tension eased. They have the walleyes and the bass for dinner that night. Fjord bundles them in paper and cooks them in the oven. Yasha slices lemons from one of the trees Caduceus had convinced to give fruit alongside the forest-facing wall of the cottage. Jester works with the firbolg to make some sort of shortbread cookie for dessert. Mollymauk spends the evening stitching tears in shirts and patching worn out trousers while Beau takes inventory of their pantry. Caleb pours over the history books the Raven Queen had left them to prepare for this world, jotting notes along the margins in blue and black pen. The rest of the week marches on just as quietly.

               A different set of hikers wanders close to the boundary of their home during one of Jester’s watches and she scares them off with thaumaturgy. Fjord gets caught in a heavy rain during his dawn watch but manages to avoid a cold. Beau takes a watch during a meteor shower and nearly scares everyone to death when she runs into the house to wake them for it. It’s peaceful and easy. It’s _domestic_ and it’s _safe_. Several weeks crawl by just the same.

               There’s a day when the strawberry patch is overfull, and they spend several hours together picking the patch clean. Caduceus cooks some into syrupy jam, Jester mixes some into a cake with Fjord. Caleb slices some into quarters so they can be dried and used for tea. Elk calves start to wander farther infield on wobbling legs and Jester spends every morning sketching the shapes of them, marking their growth in graphite. They all spend an evening watching a lunar eclipse from the cottage roof, packed shoulder to shoulder. In-between are trips to the isolated coastal town through the mountains, occasional spats, and long stretches of absolutely nothing. It’s good. It is _so good_. And then there is a knock on the door just as summer is fading back into fall.

               It’s Fjord who gets the door, flour down the front of his shirt from a bread-making mishap Jester swore was an accident. Wreathed in the extravagant vestments of his goddess, Vax’ildan looms in the doorway. “Good morning.” Fjord smiles, a little uneasy.

               “Mornin’ Vax. C’mon in.”

At the table, Yasha and Beau toss down their playing cards and stand. Caleb and Jester appear from the kitchen, both frowning. Nott and Caduceus can be heard through the window, talking quietly as they tend to the garden. Mollymauk is in the back of the cottage, resting.

               “It’s too early.” Beau says first, sharp. At her side, Yasha nods. Their faces are both drawn and weary. Vax’ildan is quick to nod.

               “Yes, yes, I know. You will have your five years as promised. You might recall however that you cannot remain as you are, if you’re to be successful.” Beau watches Vax with narrowed eyes.

               “We have to be kids, right? To go to that school? We read the little profiles you gave us, we _know_ this. You didn’t come here just for a reminder, did you?” There is a beat of tension.

               “You are delivering the disguises early.” Yasha says, voice low. Vax’ildan nods, his lips pressed into a thin line.

               “Well that’s not so bad.” Jester says, voice still light. “Is it jewelry like last time?” Vax’ildan shifts.

               “It’s – I cannot use anything that can be reversed, or anything that can be traced. The people you’ll meet _cannot_ know you are disguised, and we can’t risk them recognizing the magic.”

               “But it’s a different magic isn’t it, ours and theirs?” Jester whispers, thinking of the little statue of the Traveler she still carries with her, still channels her magic through. “How would they even know what to look for?”

               “It’s possible they wouldn’t know it if they saw it, or sensed it, but any risk at all is too great. This is the first plane you have been in that uses magic that is so different from your own. Discovery is out of the question; the ramifications could be catastrophic.”

               “Are we even safe?” Fjord face is tense. “I mean, if we _use_ this ‘other magic.’” Vax’ildan does not smile. 

               “That is half of why I am here today.” He has the decency at least to look unhappy about it.

               “You said you were here to deliver our disguises.” Beau says, hotly. In the doorway to the kitchen, Jester has one hand on Caleb’s shoulder. The other she twists in her apron, claws tearing little holes in the fabric.

               “You are to pass yourselves off as students at a magical school. Using this world’s magic is part of the disguise.” Beau scoffs.

               “But you do not know what will happen if we try to use it?” Caleb’s voice is measured, it does not tremble. His hands, one cupped against Jester’s and the other tucked against his side, shake.

               “The Raven Queen would not have given you this task if she did not think you would be successful.” Caleb’s face is grim. Fjord huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

               “So you say. Vax’ildan you have been our friend in the past, but I don’t feel very kindly towards you, just now.” Fjord’s tusks jut from his lips in an unspoken threat.  Vax’ildan looks small, suddenly, under the plumage of his black-feathered cloak.

               “I – no one could have predicted-”

               “We do not want your excuses or apologies.” Yasha’s voice cracks across the room like so much thunder. “Not _yours_.” Vax’ildan nods, stepping backwards and nearly out the door.

               “I know. But I _am_ sorry. I am so sorry.”

               “We know, Vax.” Fjord’s voice is softer now. “It’s hard to…but we know. That plane was…Let’s just do whatever it is you need us to do.” Vax flashes a quick barely-there smile.

               “We can start…whenever you are ready, but I have to – I cannot stay for too long.” 

“I’ll call Cad and Nott.” Jester says, tone losing that lyrical cadence.

               “I’ll wake Molly.” Yasha disappears into the back of the house. There is a pause while they wait for the others. Caleb on wobbling legs settles at the table. Beau sits quickly beside him, taking a one of his hands into her lap, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. Vax watches the easy exchange of comfort.

               “You’ve all come a long way, since the beginning.”

               “It’s been a long time since then.” Beau mutters. Vax takes a long breath.

               “It has.” He watches the door for a handful of quiet seconds. “I wish that-” Then Yasha is stomping down the stairs, a yawning Mollymauk behind her. Caduceus and Nott come in through the front door, tracking in mud. “Hello everyone.” He says, in favor of finishing whatever he’d meant to say.

               “Been awhile, darling.” Molly says, question left unsaid.

               “He’s here to teach us this world’s magic and turn us into little kids.” Jester says, trying for levity and missing.

               “Ah.” Molly settles in on Caleb’s other side.

               “If you’ve read any of the materials the Raven Queen left for you, you might recall that magic in this world must be channeled through a conduit called a wand, yes? Have…you read any of the materials?”

               “Caleb, Yasha, and Beau do most of the reading, but they’ve been teaching us.” Caduceus says, easy smile. “They are pretty good teachers.” Beau puffs out her chest.

               “Dairon eat your heart out.” Yasha and Caleb look passingly pleased by the praise, ducking their heads with soft smiles.

               “The wands have to be made of special wood, right?” Vax’ildan nods and draws from his robes a thin package wrapped in purple cloth.

               “She chose four of you to attend the school as peers to the boy you’re meant to protect.”

               “That Harry Potter kid.” Fjord says.

               “Yes. He’ll be fifteen at the end of this year. It wouldn’t make sense for you to just be getting a wand, so you older four will get one now.”

               “And the younger four?”

               “You’ll get yours next summer, since you’ll be just old enough to attend the school. Most students get their wands the summer before they begin.”

               “Why?” Jester asks. She shuffles into a seat. They’re all sitting now, cramped together facing Vax’ildan and the door to the cottage.

               “Well, I suppose tradition. Some pureblood – you recall what it means to be pureblood? Some pureblood families give their children wands early but that is against the laws of their society, and you’ll want to draw as little attention as you can.”

               “Oh. I – I knew that.” Jester looks embarrassedly over at Yasha, who shrugs.

               “There’s a lot to know. Who is that wand meant for?” Yasha gestures to the wand, now unraveled from the purple cloth. It is long and white, tapered at the end.

               “This one is meant for you, Yasha.” Vax’ildan says, smiling a little now. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you use it.” Trepidatious, Yasha takes the wand.

               “We read about the levitation spell last night, you could try that one.” Caleb says, pushing a teacup left out on the table from breakfast forward. Expertly, Yasha brings the wand down and flicks the tip in a small, check-like motion. The cup does not move.

               “Didn’t work.” She says, frowning.

               “You gotta say the spell, Yash’.” Beau says, leaning forward now, looking more curious than afraid.

               “That feels a little…silly.” Yasha says, eyeing the wand.

               “Everyone has to.” Caduceus sooths. Yasha sighs and brings the wand down again.

               “ _wingardium leviosa_.” There is a moment where nothing happens. And another. Jester’s disappointed exhale is loud, and premature. The teacup tips handle up, then bobs into the air. It lingers several inches above the table. Yasha’s startled expression is interrupted by a whole-body shudder that starts at the hand holding her wand and travels up and down her spine. “O-ouch?”

               “Did it hurt!?” Molly is leaning across the table, Vax’ildan reaches for the wand. Yasha tightens her grip and considers.

               “It shocked me? I was just surprised, it didn’t hurt very bad.” Molly purses their lips.

               “Don’t undersell it dear, if it hurt, it hurt.” Yasha shakes her head.

               “It didn’t, really. Just a shock.” Vax frowns and eyes the wand shrewdly.

               “Could you try again, I’d like to see if it happens every time.” Yasha nods. She takes the cup out of the air and hits it against the table, hard enough to shatter. Caduceus makes a disgruntled sound. Yasha flashes him an apologetic smile and then taps her wand to one of the shards.

               “ _Reparo_.” The cup reassembles itself. Yasha’s hand twitches on the handle of the wand. “It did it again.” Vax’ildan hums.

               “Did it hurt more, that time?” Yasha considers.

               “No. It was the same.” Vax’ildan rubs his chin.

               “Well. I suppose that’s…good then. No tears in the fabric of this reality, no interplanar holes. Both good signs. Mollymauk would you try next? I have a wand here for you as well.” The wand is thinner than Yasha’s and not quite as long. Still tapered at the end, it is a deep mahogany, almost red. Molly whistles and opens their mouth.

               “If you’re about to make a joke about ‘your wand’, save it.” Fjord says, but he’s grinning. Molly shrugs.

               “Suit yourself.” They hold the wand for a moment, gripping it first like they grip their sword and then like a pencil. “ _Lumos_.” They mumble. Light blooms at the end of the wand, then flickers and fades. They frown down at their hand.

               “Did it shock you?” Beau stage whispers. Molly shakes their head.

               “No, I felt like it cut me, just a bit.”

               “That sounds painful, Mr. Mollymauk.” Caduceus says, voice steady, leaning forward.

               “Ah, not for me darling. A little cut is hardly anything.” They gesture briefly at their chest where a web of scars hide just below the loose-fit shirt they’re wearing.

               “Me next.” Beau demands, hand forward. Vax offers her a wand, less tapered than Molly’s and Yasha’s, and a plainer color. It’s long though, a foot and then some. Quickly, she brings the wand down, then flicks. “ _wingardium leviosa_.” She tumbles over the pronunciation a little, but the cup does totter into the air.

               “How was it?” Beau switches the wand to her other hand and stretches her fingers.

               “You know how cracking your knuckles feels? It felt like that.” Vax’ildan hums.

               “Caleb…are you willing to try?” Caleb sighs and rubs his hand down his face.

               “Does it matter if I am willing, really?” He opens his hand and Vax hesitantly passes him his wand. It isn’t as straight as the other three, a slight twist in the middle. “Strange to cast without any components.” Caleb whispers, mostly to himself. He points his wand at the still floating cup. “ _Finite incantatum_.” The cup drops to the table. Caleb’s face twists briefly.

               “Caleb are you alright?” Nott is peering at him with wide, worried eyes. Caleb rolls the wand between his hands.

               “When I cast the spell it felt hot, just for a moment.”

               “Are you burnt, Caleb?” Jester reaches across and Caleb offers his hand easily. She inspects it with a frown. His hand shakes, they always do, but there is no burn. “You’re not!” Jester releases him with a smile.

               “I am wondering if maybe our own magic is colliding with this new magic as we cast.” Caleb murmurs.

               “I can’t do magic though, man, and I also felt something.” Beau crosses her arms uneasily, wand still clutched in her hand.

               “You can punch ghosts and that is a kind of magic.” Caleb says, frowning down at the table. “Vax’ildan, could they see this? The witches and wizards of this world, would they be able to detect this moment of collision?” Vax’ildan runs a hand through his hair, and then down his face.

               “It’s not so much a collision as it is a…last minute adjustment to your magic. When you use magic, the magic you all know, you still need a conduit. For most of you, your bodies. Sometimes your holy symbols. But the magic comes from you, or from your god. Magic here is different, there are no gods to give magic through holy symbols, and not everyone can do it.”

               “Not everyone could do magic on our plane, either.” Fjord says, face pinched.

               “Some people were born with the knack and some were not that is true, but anyone could learn magic if they tried. It could be, ah, difficult. But they could learn.” Fjord frowns.

               “Oh.”

               “Here that is not true, correct? Only some have the magic.” Caleb twists his wand between his fingers, looking at it with thinly veiled unease.

               “Right.” Vax says. “They call them muggles. It’s…well some think it’s about genealogy but really, it’s about compatibility. The magic is all around them, but only some can channel it through their bodies and into the wand. Only some can shape its intention.”

               “How can you know who can do it and who can’t then?” Vax blinks.

               “I…ah, I don’t know.” Caduceus hums.

               “Well that’s alright. Maybe it’s in one of the books.” Vax relaxes in increments.

               “Maybe.”

               “A last-minute adjustment, you said.” Caleb is leaning forward, chin resting on his clasped hands. “You know what is happening, then? You knew what _would_ happen?”

               “I – we had an idea.”

               “You and…The Mother of Ravens?”

               “Yes.” Caleb sighs.

               “What might have happened without this adjustment. If our magic was not willing to take the proper shape, what then?”

               “It would have rebounded.” Fjord pounds a fist against the table.

               “And you didn’t think that was important to _fucking_ know?!” Vax sighs, long and loud.

               “Would it have changed anything? You _have_ to do this. You _must_ do this. Would it have made it easier, knowing you could have been injured, even killed, for trying? I am asking truly. I can be transparent with you. I _want_ to be transparent. I hate this double-speak, I do not want to lie. I have watched over you since the very beginning. That is my task, yours is to do this. To meddle in fate, to rearrange outcomes. If it will help to know every truth, I can tell you.” Vax sucks in a breath, a shaking breath. Tears shine in his eyes. “I _can_ tell you.” Fjord sags. They all do.

               “I never thought it would be like this.” Caleb’s voice is very small. “I…this is all – I did. I did this. I did this to us.” His hands are trembling against the table and Caduceus places a large hand over his.

               “Caleb, you were trying to keep us safe. You made that wish to protect us.” Caleb hiccoughs, and there is suddenly a thundering of chairs scraping against the wood, of bodies knocking into each other, all the Mighty Nein trying to get a hand on Caleb. All trying clumsily to offer comfort. It’s a practiced response. Practically instinct, if poorly choreographed.

               “Don’t carry this with you, man. None of us fucking blame you.” Caleb shakes his head, buried in his arms now, Caduceus still holding his hands.

               “I c-chained you to a god! How could this be worth – how could any of this have been worth what we went through on that plane. How could any of this have been worth _that_.” A shudder runs through all of them.

               “That plane was fucked, man, but you didn’t know. You didn’t – that wasn’t us. That wasn’t even Her.” Fjord says, reaching around Yasha to put a hand between Caleb’s shoulder blades. Caleb is quiet for several long minutes. They all are, clustered together standing vigil. Vax’ildan watches from his place by the door, wiping his eyes.

               “I’m…I cannot stay.” He says finally, words jagged in the silence.

               “How does it need to happen?” Fjord says, his voice muffled.

               “True Polymorph. It’s permanent, and the traces of our world’s magic will fade by the end of the year. I have a few things with me that will let you disguise yourselves as adults so you can continue to do your shopping and…whatever else, I suppose. There’s clothes too and I’ll be stopping by every week from now on to check in and deliver the newspaper.”

               “The newspaper?” Fjord asks, dislodged briefly, from the tension of the moment.

               “Yes, it will let you know what is going on in the Wizarding World, particularly with young Mr. Potter. I’m told this is meant to be a very eventful year for him. For everyone, really.”

               “Alright. Well. Let’s get to it, so you can be on your way and we can…” Fjord shrugs. Everyone untangles slowly, Caleb scrubs at his face while Mollymauk and Caduceus continue to murmur to him and rub his back. They go one at a time. The spell is instantaneous at least, although it should be impossible for Vax to cast it so many times in one day. After Vax is done, a little disheveled and out of breath, four ten-year-olds and four fourteen-year-olds blink back at him. From his cloak, and what must be a bag of holding tucked out of sight, Vax pulls several bundles of clothes.

               “To get you through the year. Buy anything else you might need, money is no object as always. I am – I…Well, I’ll see you in a week.” Vax does not flee the cottage, but he does go quickly, the door barely banging shut before he is gone in a flurry of black feathers.

               “It’s been a difficult day.” Caduceus says, not quite smiling. It is strange to see him so small. To see him with a human face.

               “No kidding.” Jester says, her voice higher than usual and more thickly accented. Nott barks a laugh.

               “It’s only noon.”

               “It is two, actually.” Caleb says. His eyes are red-rimmed and downcast. He doesn’t look at anyone.

               “Perfect time for a nap, if you asked me.” Molly declares. They take a step forward and nearly trip over their suddenly too-big pants. “Here’s hoping there’s pajamas in those piles.” There are. Mostly soft shirts and pants, or shorts. Several minutes are spent inspecting their individual bundles of clothes and changing into better fitting underwear and whatever works for sleeping.

               “I think a nap sounds great. Let’s all rest and then we can sort ourselves out after that.” They trip over each other walking to the back of the house and then fall into bed less than gracefully. Yasha ends up at the bottom of the pile, she usually does. Beau tucks beside her on one side, Molly on the other. Caleb lays with Yasha’s legs thrown on top of his stomach, head pillowed in Molly’s lap. Nott curls at Caleb’s feet while Jester spoons Beau from behind. Caduceus curls at the head of the bed, usually large enough to bend over all of them now he can only reach Molly, Yasha, and just barely Jester with his feet. Fjord sleepily offers to take a watch but ends up laying at the foot of the bed instead with one hand gripping Jester’s ankle and the other thrown across Nott. They’re bound to wake up dripping in sweat and even more tangled up in each other than they are now but, in the moment, it is a comfort to hear each other breathing. To know that they are all irrefutably alive. That they are all, impossibly, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is a lot to take in, I figure. I can't promise it will get less self-indulgent.


	2. True Polymorph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choose one creature or nonmagical object that you can see within range. You transform the creature into a different creature, the creature into an object, or the object into a creature (the object must be neither worn nor carried by another creature). The transformation lasts for the duration, or until the target drops to 0 hit points or dies. If you concentrate on this spell for the full duration, the transformation lasts until it is dispelled.

Mouth open, hand outstretched towards the ceiling, Beau blinks awake. There are words caught in the back of her throat, a shout fizzled into a groan. There are tear tracks on her cheeks mingling with tacky sweat. She tries to recall the dream she was having but it’s unraveling quickly. The light cutting through a gap in the curtains is too-bright and disorienting. The shape of the dream is slipping through Beau’s fingers but the urgency and the fear, the chaos of it is lingering. She lets her hand fall back to her side and evens out her breathing. Yasha’s hair is in Beau’s mouth. Beau thinks briefly of something large and dark, writhing in the far-off distance. Thinks about the sensation of her own hair in her mouth, pulled from a haphazard bun and whipping around her. Unnatural wind and unnatural scenery. Beau shudders and takes another breath. The dream is nearly faded but what Beau remembers of the nightmare plane fills in all the gaps. Not a dream, a nightmare. A memory. Beau shudders. Jester has maneuvered herself entirely on top of Beau at some point during their rest. She’s smaller now, much smaller, and it’s unfamiliar and crushing. Beau breathes in the dark, alone. Beside her, Yasha sighs long and low. Caduceus’ stomach is pressed against the top of Beau’s head and he’s snoring nearly hard enough to shake the bedframe. How any of them sleep through his snoring is a mystery to Beau.

               Eventually, with care, Beau begins to wriggle upright and out of the press of Jester’s limbs. Nott mumbles in her sleep, halfling and goblin cobbled together into a grumbling monologue. Frumpkin, stretched long across Caleb’s legs, is purring languidly. His eyes are open, glowing in the dark. Beau reaches across to run a hand down his spine but lifts her knee too high, Jester’s even breathing hitches and her eyes crack open. “Beau?” It’s strange, to hear her voice so high.

               “Sorry Jess, you can go back to sleep if you want.” Beau whispers. Jester smiles, drowsy with eyes half-lidded and Beau’s nightmare softens at the edges. The memory, too, seems far away.

               “What time is it?” Jester murmurs, pulling herself up until she is settled in Beau’s lap. Normally they could kiss like this, Jester straddling Beau. Now the angle is all wrong, Beau is too much taller and anyway her face looks so young. Jester kisses Beau on the chin instead of the lips, something leaden in her gut at this new predicament. Being turned into a child had seemed sort of silly, almost fun, but she hadn’t considered that it would feel all-wrong to kiss Beau.

               “I don’t know.” Beau says, pressing a kiss to Jester’s cheek. It still isn’t the same, and they both watch each other in the low-light, sharing an uncomfortable frown. Jester sighs and settles back from Beau’s lap, forgetting her legs aren’t so long and managing to sit down onto Beau’s knees. Beau hisses, jerking her bad knee up. Jester, hurriedly tries to scramble off, setting a hand down on Yasha in the process. Then Yasha is rousing, mumbling something half formed and incomprehensible. Forgetting Caleb at her feet, she kicks the wind out of him while trying to get herself upright. Wheezing, Caleb jolts up, jostling Nott by _his_ feet. Nott goes from curled into a ball to standing immediately out of habit, but her eyes are still closed. Caleb’s coughing wakes Molly, who wakes Fjord, and both come up at the same time, Fjord colliding with Mollymauk’s chin. Both of them groan and sink back down.

               “Wasgoin’on? Whashappenin’?” Fjord mutters blearily, rubbing at the top of his head. Mollymauk, flat on their back, cups their hands over their mouth.

               “Fuck, I bit my tongue.” They manage. Caduceus is the last to sit up, blinking slowly and watching everything uncomprehendingly. His eyes slide shut, and his head drop down after a beat, a long snore sawing out of him. Jester giggles helplessly while Mollymauk carefully rolls onto their belly and then rises to their knees and finally pats at Caduceus to wake him up. He comes to a second time with a snort and a shake of his head. A slow smile breaks across his face.

               “Hello Mr. Mollymauk. What time is it?”

               “Evening, I think.” Mollymauk mumbles, one hand pressing at their bottom lip, which is split where Fjord headbutted them.

               “Morning, actually.” Caleb says, breathless. Yasha reaches across to rub his back and whisper apologies. Nott totters briefly like she might fall and then scrubs at her eyes, yawning noisily.

               “Morning? How long did we sleep?” She rasps. Her braids have come mostly undone and her hair is sticking in odd ways to her face. Fjord shuffles out of bed and tugs the blinds open. Elk are wandering out of the forest and the field is dyed with the oranges and yellows of the rising, not setting, sun.

               “We went to bed at two in the afternoon.” Fjord says, disbelieving.

               “True Polymorph can really take it out of you, I would know best.” Nott says, distractedly. Her eyes are on Caleb. “Caleb are you alright?” Caleb opens his mouth but only manages a rattling wheeze. Yasha’s face twists at the sound and Nott presses a careful hand to Caleb’s cheek.

               “I kicked him in the chest when I woke up, knocked the air out of him. Where is his rescue inhaler?” Yasha’s voice is flat, but her darting eyes betray her worry. She brushes some of Caleb’s hair out of his face and pulls him backwards so he’s leaning against her. He shakes his head, trying to sit back up.

               “I do not want – I do not _need_ that. I-I’ll be alright.” Nott scrambles over Mollymauk towards the bedside table.

               “You _do_ need it.” Nott grumbles, fiddling with the drawer. It tends to stick when it gets particularly damp in the cottage.

               “You’re wheezing Caleb, you can’t breathe.” Yasha’s tone is still flat, but the hand she presses against Caleb to keep him leaning against her is guiding and firm. Nott finally unjams the drawer and passes a red and orange inhaler across the bed.

               “We don’t think less of you for using it.” Nott adds, voice low.

               “It’s not that I think-” Yasha presses the inhaler into Caleb’s hand as he speaks.

               “We can talk about it when you can breathe again.” Yasha says, stern. Caleb just heaves a wispy sigh and holds the inhaler to his mouth. Caleb’s shoulders shake as he inhales, and he coughs on the exhale. Yasha runs a hand up and down his arm. “Again.” She prompts. Caleb whispers a soft _I know, I know_. When it’s done, he settles back against Yasha, flushed but breathing clearer.

               “Better?” Nott asks, stepping over to fuss with Caleb’s loose pajama shirt, shifting it one way and then the other until she likes the way it lays across his shoulders. Caleb nods minutely. Nott hums.

               “Good. That’s what it’s for.” The look Caleb fixes Nott with is long-suffering and a little hurt.

               “I know that. I am not…ashamed. I just do not like you worrying, is all.”

“We’re a family, and families worry about each other.” Beau says from where she’s shuffling to the edge of the bed. “Speaking of worrying and assistive devices, could somebody get me my uh, my fucking staff?”

               “Your cane?” Fjord asks, smile a little teasing. “You left it in the kitchen, I think. I’ll go an’ get it.” Fjord ambles off, stretching his hands over his head as he goes.” Beau huffs and shouts after him.

               “My _staff_ Fjord! It’s a fucking staff.”

               “See Caleb dear, you’re not the only one with hang-ups.” Molly says, their voice is bright, but their eyes are searching, checking Caleb over for any linger effects of the asthma attack.

               “It’s not a fuckin’ hang-up you ass.” Beau grumbles. Molly shrugs.

               “Whatever you say Beauregard. Now, let’s all very carefully – so we don’t give anyone a concussion, get out of bed so we can get started on some breakfast.” The smile they flash is all teasing but Fjord, returning from the kitchen with Beau’s cane/staff, looks bashful. He passes the cane off and trails back into the kitchen. Jester is the first to scuttle off the bed, promptly misjudging the distance to the floor and hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Nott watches her go over the side with a wince. Rolling upright Jester sticks her hands straight out at her sides.

               “She sticks the landing!”

               “Are you alright?” Nott asks, sliding off the bed one dangling foot at a time. That she is nearly a foot shorter than Jester is much more noticeable when they’re standing side-by-side.

               “Yep!” Jester says, skipping off. Nott follows with a vaguely concerned, mostly amused look on her face. Yasha watches with a soft laugh and then turns to Caleb.

               “Do you need help off the bed? You can keep resting against me if you need.” Her voice is low and soft. Caleb shakes his head, frowning down at the sheets.

               “Ah, no thank you I am – I can, I will be fine.” He pushes against Yasha but his whole arm is trembling. Molly shuffles over.

               “Caleb, my dear, it’s alright to accept help when you need it.” They say this while carefully taking Caleb’s face into their hands. Caleb doesn’t try to pull away and looks up carefully. His lower lip wobbles.

               “I just – I do not like…the attention.” Mollymauk clicks their tongue.

               “Caleb, darling, I will tell you this as many times as I must. We care about you. We want you safe and well and happy and none of that hinges on us gaining anything. Except, perhaps, your love and care as well. I know that…getting attention is hard because…it has so often meant something negative in your life, but this is not attention for want of something in return, it is care freely given.” Caleb shuts his eyes against Mollymauk’s unwavering gaze.

               “But what must you think of me, a grown man who needs so much care? I am always…needing something. An inhaler, someone to help me when I am having my…flashbacks. Someone to help me when my tremors get very bad. I am just needing all this help and I do not want you to get tired of me.” No one says anything for so long that Caleb uneasily squints an eye open to find Mollymauk staring back at him, incredulous.

               “What the fuck man?” Beau says, the words not quite a shout in the quiet room but jarring enough to make Caleb flinch.

               “I – I am sorry I-” Beau grimaces and rubs a hand over her knee. The craterlike scar is ruinous and grey even in the warm glow of the morning light.

               “No, listen don’t apologize. I’m sorry for yelling I just…Do you really think we’d get tired of helping you?” Caleb shrugs.

               “I…I know that sometimes I am…a lot and you all also have, you know.” He gestures to Beau’s knee and then to Yasha’s eye.

               “Well…yeah.” Beau says, soft. “But like, we help each other out. Fjord gets my cane, _fuck_ , my staff. Jester helps Yasha not run into walls if we’re in a new space. We all do…you know, what we have to. Cuz it’s not liked this stuff is negotiable. You know?” Caleb just frowns.

               “I, well. But all the time? You do not…you know, get irritated that I need help so much? That I slow us down, that I…am…like this?” Caleb trails off, twisting the sheets in his trembling hands. Caduceus leans forward.

               “Caleb, could I give you a hug?” Caleb nods, not looking up. Caduceus wraps him into a tight hug. Although Caduceus is meant to be ten and Caleb fourteen, they are still nearly the same size. Close enough at least that Caleb does not have to duck uncomfortably to press his face into Caduceus shoulder. “It’s okay to need help Caleb. It’s okay to need a lot of help. Your lungs are damaged because you got hurt trying to protect us. You have a tremor in your hands because of something awful that was done to you when you were young. Even if…neither of those were true and you still had asthma, and you still had a tremor you would still deserve help. It’s not about deserving it, it’s about basic decency. It’s about quality of life, and it’s about the fact that we love you. We love you so much Mr. Caleb. I love you so much.” All this Caduceus mumbles to Caleb’s hairline. Caleb takes a long shuddery inhale and comes undone on the exhale. A wobbling hiccough becomes loud, heaving sobs.

               Caduceus murmurs softly and shifts so he and Caleb are rocking slightly, back and forth. Mollymauk joins the hug and runs their hands up and down Caleb’s arms. Yasha runs a hand through his hair. Beau reaches from her spot on the edge of the bed, managing to catch one of Caleb’s hands in her own. She runs her thumb across his knuckles over and over again.

               “Ten years of nothing and two break-downs in two days.” Caleb mumbles from where he’s pressed into Caduceus clavicle.

               “Ah, I wouldn’t say this was a first darling.” Mollymauk says, their laugh a little choked. Caleb laughs back, soft and watery.

               “Can we go and eat breakfast now?” Caleb asks, after a while.

               “Please. I’m starving.” Beau grumbles. Yasha helps her off the bed slowly and Mollymauk and Caduceus take a moment once the girls have left to press kisses into Caleb’s hair and whisper a few more reassurances. Then they peel apart.

               “Ready for breakfast? Do you need a moment by yourself?” Caduceus asks. Caleb starts to nod and then pauses, considering.

               “Ah, n-no I am, let’s go together?” Caduceus looks Caleb over. His face is ruddy and damp, but he looks more at ease than he has in a while and his breathing sounds good too.

               “Okay, then let’s go. I think I know just what to make for us this morning.” Caduceus says. In a heap they pile out of the bed and wander into the dining room. Beau has her leg propped up in Yasha’s lap, her face is tilted into her elbow while Yasha carefully runs hands up and down her leg getting close to her knee but never touching it. Caleb touches Beau’s shoulder gently as he passes.

               “Ah, uhm, thank you Beauregard for what you said. I am not so good at…accepting love and attention but I do…care for you very much. You and – everyone else.” Beau’s smile is pinched, the muscles in her neck jump as Yasha runs a hand over a sensitive, cramping muscle.

               “Love you, man.” She says. Caleb’s answering smile is small, but radiant. He settles into a chair and leans so his shoulder is just brushing hers.

               “Okay?” Beau’s answering nod is stilted. Caduceus hands Caleb a book, steady smile soothing even on an unfamiliar face. Quietly, Caleb reads aloud. The tense lines of Beau’s shoulders relax in increments. The breakfast routine smooths out any lingering wrinkles from the morning. Caleb carries on softly reading while Caduceus busies himself at the fireplace, making a thick and sweet-smelling oatmeal. Fjord and Jester slice fruit in the kitchen while Nott shepherds jars and pots of various add-ins. Honey and sugar, then peanut-butter and blackberry jam they made in the fall last year. Mollymauk and Yasha chat idly at the table about clothes and haircuts and what they’ll need to buy when they go into town next. Then, more hesitantly, they talk about what they’ll need next spring before they leave. Eventually the conversation draws everyone in. Beau, pulls her leg out of Yasha’s lap with a hiss but not before Yasha curls forward and kisses the very middle of the scar.

               Caleb sets his book aside and Caduceus ladles out bowls of oatmeal while Fjord and Jester set out bowls of sliced fruit.

               “I will need to ask Vax’ildan for several inhalers – I will need a couple at least, to be safe. Of both the rescue and regular varieties.” Caleb says, once everyone is seated.

               “We’ll also need batteries for Nott’s hearing aid, I suppose. Do wizards even use hearing aids? Do you think there’s a spell that-” Mollymauk interrupts themself to jump up and grab a notebook from the bedroom, muttering about writing all of this down as they go.

               “Ugh, don’t worry about batteries. I haven’t even worn my hearing aid since we got here. It makes an awful ringing sound and I can still hear as long as you’re not too far away.” Nott says, waving her hand dismissively.

               “But what if we are too far away?” Yasha asks, frowning. Nott sags.

               “Well…”

               “I am not sure the hearing aid will work well in the wizarding world.” Caleb says. Mollymauk returns with their notebook and a pen, nearly tripping as they step on a too-long pant-leg.

               “What do you mean?” Mollymauk asks, settling in. Quietly, they assure Jester that they’re fine from the near-fall. _These clothes_. Jester spits, looking cross. _These bodies_.

               “Ah, I mean muggle technology does not always work in the wizarding world.” Caleb says.

               “What? Why?” Jester asks, turning away from her aside with Mollymauk.

               “Ah, um. It is because of how magic works in this world. Do you – hm. Do you remember yesterday when Vax’ildan said that only some people could use magic on this plane?” Caleb says, around a mouthful of oatmeal. Caduceus adds more strawberries to his bowl while he’s distracted.

               “I remember.” Says Jester, smiling at Caduceus. He winks. “He said something about compatibility, right” Caleb nods hurriedly.

               “Right, exactly right. Compatibility is the most important part of casting magic in this world because it is all around us, like air.” He says.

               “The magic?” Caduceus murmurs. Caleb turns to nod, noticing the sudden heap of strawberries in his oatmeal and frowning confusedly.

               “Y-yes? Yes! The magic is all around us. That is different from the magic in our world because in our world it was the gods who gave people magic. During the Age of Arcanum.” Caleb says, shrugging and taking a bite of his now-mostly-strawberry oatmeal. Nott gives Caduceus a thumbs up when Caleb turns to look back at Jester.

               “Anyone can do magic in our world.” Fjord says. “But here, they can’t? Because…ours was a gift from the gods and theirs is…not?”

               “Yes. The gods gave everyone magic in our world, theoretically. How you access the magic can change. Like, if you are a warlock.” Fjord nods while Caleb talks. “Or you are a cleric.” Jester grins. “Or a wizard. We learned our magic differently and we cannot do all the same spells, but we all learned magic. We all have magic.”

               “So why isn’t it like that here?” Beau says, leaning forward to rest her chin on crossed arms.

               “The magic here has always been a part of the world. A-according to the books I have read, anyway.” Caleb says. He drums a hand on the table. “This world’s magic is more like…a, hm. A, ah, dust that is always lingering in the air. It is not alive.”

               “Is our magic alive?” Yasha asks, soft.

               “It…is from something alive, _ja_? The gods gave us magic from themselves…it is not so indifferent. Not so…inert.” Yasha considers this. She rubs her face.

               “I’m not sure I understand.” Caleb stands and runs his hands up and down the inseam of his pajama shirt, thinking.

               “Well it is like…you know how you use spell components? When we cast, we must…give something up? It is like a trade?” Yasha nods.

               “Casters here do not…do that. No components. We must convince our magic or our god. We must ask. They do not ask here, they tell. Because we are borrowing magic that was a gift and they are…just taking. Like instead of buying flowers they are picking them. Does this…make sense?” Yasha narrows her eyes but nods slowly.

               “Yes. More than it did.” Caleb nods.

               “Good. That’s…good.”

               “If the magic is just in the air though, how come some people can’t do it?” Jester asks. She has her sketchbook out and is drawing a person surrounded by a swirling cloud of little dots she punches into the page with her pencil.

               “Ah, well…I do not know what makes someone incompatible. I do not want to guess…people have a lot of ideas and they are all…pretty bad. There have been…experiments to – to – to see but I. I have not. Read them.”

               “Don’t read them, man.” Beau says, grim. “Don’t touch that shit. If we need to know it, Yasha or I will read that, okay?” Caleb bobs his head.

               “ _Ja_ , okay, thank you.”

               “But um, Caleb, what does that have to do with why my hearing aid might not work?” Nott asks. Caleb hums.

               “O-oh, well that is because…If we are thinking of this world’s magic like dust then we can think about how using it is like stirring dust up in the air. Normally, magic in this world is inert until it is channeled through a wand…but when it is being agitated a lot it becomes less inert. It can influence objects, with enough agitation…Which is to say…with enough use.  Technology is vulnerable because it can malfunction in ways simple objects cannot.”  

               “That doesn’t seem so bad. Hearing aids malfunction on their own all the time.” Nott says with a shrug.

               “It does not seem so bad, but what about for a big thing like a car? And magical malfunction could be a lot worse or…stranger than a shorted fuse or a break failure you know?” Caleb says. Nott nods.

               “I guess that’s true. That makes sense, yes. Thank you, Caleb.”

               “Why did using the magic in this world hurt you, yesterday? Since we’re talking about all this magic stuff.” Jester asks, setting her sketchbook aside. She worries a nail between her teeth.

               “That is because we reached for our own magic first and without any spell components, without anything to help shape the magic it just…misfired. We must be better at reaching for this world’s magic first. I think for a little ask like light and a little levitation the misfire would not be so bad but for a bigger ask? The misfire could be…not so good.”

               “Guess we better practice.” Beau says, sighing. She glances at the wands they had left overnight, now knocked aside to make room for breakfast.

               “Ah, _ja,_ that would probably be good.”

               “You know Caleb, you are a very good teacher.” Nott says, smiling. Caleb sits down, hands pattering against his legs.

               “Ah, well. I have been reading a lot.” Yasha ruffles his hair and Mollymauk presses a kiss to his cheek. Then breakfast is being cleared away and they all find themselves back at the table with nothing much to do.

“S’fuckin’ weird that we’re all kids now.” Beau mutters after a while.” I keep looking up and startling myself.”

               “You’re tellin’ us. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to be human, but it never gets easier.” Fjord says, crossing his arms.

               “I think we should cut our hair and put on our new clothes, maybe that will help us not feel so strange.” Jester says, tone light, if a little strained.

               “That sounds like a good idea.” Caduceus says. “I would like my hair to be pink again.” Mollymauk laughs.

               “I think we can arrange that, dear.”

               “I’m not about to face the world without my undercut.” Beau adds.

               “I would not say no to a trim myself, and a shave.” Mollymauk says, rubbing at their face, slightly stubbled with dark hair.

               “We all need baths anyway.” Yasha says. Nott groans while Jester claps her hands together.

               “Yes! It will be like a spa day!” Laughingly, they all follow a bouncy Jester to the bathroom. It is usually a squeeze for all of them but now they pile into the tiled room with ease. Jester fusses with the faucets, filling the large basin in the corner of the room with hot water and clouding the bathroom with steam. Caleb gathers buckets and washcloths and sponges. Yasha brings in a trashcan, a straight razor, and a pair of kitchen scissors. Mollymauk carefully selects several different soaps and shampoos from the veritable hoard they’d accumulated over the years. Nott pilfers some boxes of hair dye from Mollymauk’s room. Since the first plane where they’d found the stuff, Mollymauk had been dying their hair ostentatious colors at every opportunity, never sticking with one for very long. Which usually meant there were several boxes of a variety of colors in the house at any given time.

               Where normally it’s two-at-a-time in the bath, now they can cluster four at a time. Nott skirts the edge of the tub warily on her turn, but Caleb eventually manages to coax her in and wash her hair. While Nott is busily drying herself off and Caleb is enjoying a prolonged soak with Caduceus and Fjord Mollymauk angles the pair of scissors at Yasha and says, “Do your worst.” Yasha frowns.

               “I’m going to do my best, Molly.”

               “Of course, dear, sorry. Do your best.” Yasha shrugs and sets to work. In the end Molly’s hair falls just to their shoulders in a curly sort-of-bob. That it’s crooked is hardly noticeable. Caduceus eventually rises out of the bath to dye his hair, an off grey reminiscent of his fur, back to its preferred bubblegum pink. He dumps a bucket of water over his head, wringing out the excess dye when he’s done. Peering at himself in the mirror Jester had stood up in the corner of the bathroom ages ago, he sighs contentedly.

               “I feel much more like myself, now.” Jester stands behind him, also looking.

               “You don’t look like yourself though. I don’t like looking so different.”

               “You don’t look so different from yourself, Jess.” Beau says, tilting from where she’s sat on an overturned bucket. Caleb is carefully shaving the sides of Beau’s head, his own hair pulled back in a slick ponytail.

               “Please stop moving.” Caleb mumbles.

               “I am not blue.” Jester says, forlorn. Beau shrugs, and Caleb hisses as he darts the razor away from her head.

               “But you still look like you, just…not blue, and minus horns and a tail.” Beau says. Jester sighs.

               “I don’t like being little. I couldn’t kiss you how I wanted this morning, it felt too weird. And I sat on our knee because I forgot how small you were.” Jester sniffs. Beau twists to look at her again and Caleb makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat.

               “Beau, if you do not sit still, we will have to add ‘missing ear’ to our collective list of injuries and although it would be the easiest to explain it might also be the most embarrassing.”

               “Sorry, man.” Beau grumbles, crossing her arms. “And sorry Jess it does…it is weird. It does suck.”

               “I miss having hooves.” Caduceus adds. “I always miss my hooves the most. Feet are so soft and sensitive. I have to wear shoes.” Yasha gives Caduceus a conciliatory pat on the shoulder while Jester and Mollymauk mutter to each other about differences in human and Tiefling anatomy and how strange it is that they are all children.

               “How _are_ we gonna explain all these injuries.” Fjord says loudly, interrupting Jester and Mollymauk’s continued discussion about Tiefling anatomy below the belt and the very long dry spell they are all in for.

               “It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” Jester scolds.

               “Well we all have little backstories for ourselves from RQ right? Doesn’t it say in there?” Nott asks, sitting on the lip of the tub with her feet dangling, wringing water out of her hair.

               ““Ah, it doesn’t. It is not very detailed.” Caleb says.

“What was the name of the lady who was supposed to be teaching us?” Nott asks.

               “Clementine Arnette, she is teaching us because we are all orphans with wild magic.” Caleb says, finishing Beau’s undercut with a relieved sigh. “It’s finished, Beau.”

               “Thanks, man, looks good. And the wild magic is like…a thing people have in this world?”

               “Ah, it is not common from what I understand. All magical children have uncontrolled magic when they are young but sometimes it can persist beyond that.” Caleb explains while swapping places with Beau. “Please just trim the ends, I don’t mind if it stays long.”

               “Sure. If our magic is so out of control, then why is this Arnette lady, our pretend teacher and guardian, shipping us off to a bigger magical school?” Beau asks, setting the straight razor aside and grabbing the kitchen scissors from Yasha.

               “ _Because_ , Beau, she wants Dumbledore to be able to use our magic in the war.” Jester says this staring at the ground.

               “But only Caleb and I know that.” Yasha adds, soft. Jester sags.

               “I _hate_ all these stories inside of stories. It is so complicated, and it is so hard to keep track And! And, we do not even have the full story because always the Raven Queen has her own story that we don’t get to know any of. It was fun in the beginning, all these stories, it was like being a _spy_ but now I don’t feel like a spy I feel like a tool and not even a very good and sharp tool because the Raven Queen is always keeping us in the dark about things too. How can we do our best, how can we be _safe_ if we do not know all the stories? Maybe if we did not so many bad things would happen.” Jester heaves a sigh. “Maybe then things like that very bad plane would not happen.” Mollymauk throws an arm around Jester, stooping to press a kiss to the top of her head.

               “It’s all about balance, Jester dear. Gods are inscrutable, and I am by no means defending the Raven Queen, but I think part of her not telling us everything is out of necessity. I’m not even sure we could comprehend the larger picture, if she did tell it to us.” They say, pulling Jester against them.

               “Well I think it is _stupid_ though.” She says, sniffing.

               “This is the cost of my wish.” Caleb says, grimacing. Beau pushes his head gently forward.

               “You didn’t know this would be the cost.” She mutters. “We’ve been over this.” Caleb just shrugs.

               “It’s like a line of dominoes, Jester.” Caduceus says, soft. For a beat no one speaks.

               “What?” Fjord says, clearly lost.

               “It’s like dominoes.” Caduceus says again. “Caleb’s wish was for the last one in a line to be knocked over, but to do that, all of the dominoes had to be knocked over. Now we are just putting all of the other dominoes upright again.”

               “Oh.” Says Fjord. “Well I guess that makes a sort of sense. But, you know, incomprehensible gods aside, returning to the original question, how are we gonna explain our injuries? Because I can just say I’m accident prone and that’s how come I’ve got all these scars on my face, and as long as I keep a shirt on, I don’t have to explain the others but Mollymauk would have a hard time passing theirs off as accidents.” Molly, still mostly naked, glances down at their scars. They stand out a vivid pink against dark skin, across their chest and arms, they can’t see it, but Caduceus had confirmed in a whisper yesterday that the particularly dense cluster at the back of their neck was still there as well.

               “Yes, the one on my head I could pass of as a tragic incident these…reek of intentionality, unfortunately.”

               “Yeah and you know, saying Fjord’s are accidental is one thing but saying we all have accidental, grisly injuries. That’s just suspicious no matter which way you slice it.” Beau says. Jester sighs again, so loud it echoes around the bathroom.

               “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I am tired of thinking about all the lies we have to tell and all the things we don’t know and how many dangerous things we have to do. Can’t it wait, just for a little longer?” She kicks at the ground. “Please?”

               “It can wait.” Caleb decides, although he looks uneasy with the idea.

               “Caleb’s right. For now, let’s get out of the bath and have something for lunch. Baby steps.” Mollymauk adds. Dried and dressed and sitting at the kitchen table they all still look a little disheveled. It’s still early in the day, just past noon according to Caleb, but clouds have gathered over the valley and a cool rain is falling. Caleb and Beau produce sandwich fixings for lunch and for a while no one talks. Caduceus makes tea as sandwiches are being cleared away and Jester sets out a cake, she and Fjord made together a few days ago and there is quiet as everyone sips at tea, something spiced and warm. Caleb snaps Frumpkin into existence and the large tabby settles in his lap to purr and doze. The not-talking isn’t uncomfortable, really. More of an unspoken agreement to give each other space to process, to think. Still they gravitate together. When Jester trails back into the back of the cottage to the bedroom, Yasha and Molly go with her. Caduceus sets to work on a more involved dinner than usual, and Caleb drags a chair in to sit by the window and read. Nott settles against his chair and dumps out a jar of buttons on the floor, counting through them absently.  Fjord sharpens his falchion over the kitchen table in silence while Beau lays out a mat on the dining room floor by the fireplace and goes through the motions of several stretches to help her knee.

               Rain falls steadily outside, and it’s quiet. Jester in the bedroom draws with her shoulders bunched while Mollymauk flips through their tarot deck and Yasha begins the intricate process of braiding segments of her hair, now dry after the bath. Fjord is still, eyes hard as he drags a whetstone across his sword. Beau hisses occasionally, or blows out a held breath noisily, but goes through her routine with her back to Fjord. Caleb burrows into his book and Nott does not look up from her buttons even as Frumpkin paws at one curiously. Caduceus does not hum as he gathers ingredients. But when Mollymauk flips a card too hard, Yasha hands it back wordlessly. Jester does not speak but fills her sketchbook with pictures of all of them, young and smiling in the bath. When Fjord rises to get a glass of water, he comes back with two, placing one carefully beside Beau. Caleb’s free hand brushes the top of Nott’s head periodically and when Caduceus passes, he steps out in his uneven gait to bump his hip against Caleb’s knees. It is a hard-learned language between all of them, of cautious love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a little Caleb-heavy. He's my favorite, I'm not sorry.


	3. Edits - Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You touch a dead humanoid or a piece of a dead humanoid. Provided that the creature has been dead no longer than 10 days, the spell forms a new adult body for it and then calls the soul to enter that body. If the target’s soul isn’t free or willing to do so, the spell fails.  
> The magic fashions a new body for the creature to inhabit, which likely causes the creature’s race to change. The GM rolls a d100 and consults the following table to determine what form the creature takes when restored to life, or the GM chooses a form.

Hello! I've hit a wall writing this and realized it's because I felt the first two chapters needed an overhaul. I'll be rewriting them both in the next couple of weeks, then I'll take down this 'chapter'. The core of the story is still the same - so if you like what's going on so far don't worry!


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